and made her eyes a shade lighter

Broken Heart

Originally posted by jeffatkinsimagines

The music was blaring loudly from the large speakers in the gym, lights flickering back and forth between different colors of the spectrum, the smell of punch lingered in the air mixed with alcohol that some students had managed to sneak in.

(Y/N) sat on the bleachers with her head down, looking at her short and shiny black heels that were beginning to make her feet ache. Reaching down, she took them off and wiggled her toes for a moment before sighed and leaning back against the bleacher behind her.

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We’ll dance on top of cars

Now, as he stays there on the edge of her bed, her back pressed slightly against his chest and sitting between his parted legs, Stiles starts slowly combing her curls making them wavy as he knows she loves them and thinks that all he ever wanted in his life after all, is being able to see them getting silver by his side.

“Mm, you’re good at this.” Lydia’s moan brings him back to her.

“Among many other things.”


or the smutty pre-prom drabble no one has hopefully written yet

romance, smut - 2.7k words - Explicit   [AO3]

A/N: Special thanks to Susana ( @you-make-me-wander ) for her amazing beta work, you know you can always count on me babe <3

and thank you Sanya ( @killianjonec ) for reading this for first and always supporting me with my writing, i love you sis

Title is from “Wings” by Birdy

part 3 of the Bedzone series 

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @riverdalecorefour! I really hope you’ll like this

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TLH snippet — the Beautiful Cordelia

Snippet from TLH 1:

Cordelia glanced over her shoulder. “Is it — I mean, I wish to chat alone with you, too, but are we being dreadfully rude asking your brother to walk behind us?”

“Not a bit,” Lucie assured her. “Look at him. He’s quite distracted, reading.”

And he was. James had a book out and was calmly reading while he walked. Though he seemed entirely caught up in whatever he was perusing, he nevertheless skirted oncoming passers-by, the occasional rock or fallen branch, and once even a small boy holding a hoop, with admirable grace. Cordelia suspected that if she had tried such a stunt, she would have crashed into a tree.

“You’re so lucky,” Cordelia said, wistfully, still looking over her shoulder at James.

“Goodness me, why?” Lucie looked at her with wide eyes. Where James’ eyes were amber, Lucie’s were a pretty pale blue, a shade lighter than her father’s. The famous dark blue Herondale eyes had gone to Will’s sister’s children.

Cordelia’s head snapped back around. “Oh, because —“ Because you get to spend time with James every day? She doubted Lucie thought that was any special gift; one didn’t, when it was one’s family. “He’s such a good older brother. If I’d asked Alastair to walk ten paces behind me in a park he would have made sure to stick by my side the entire time just to be annoying.”

“Pfft!” Lucie exhaled. “Of course I adore Jamie but he’s been dreadful lately, ever since he fell in love.”

She might as well have dropped an incendiary device on Cordelia’s head. Everything seemed to fly apart around her. “He’s what?”

“Fallen in love,” Lucie repeated, with the look of someone enjoying imparting a bit of gossip. “Oh, he won’t say with who, of course, because it’s Jamie and he never tells us anything. But Father’s diagnosed him and he says it’s definitely love.”

“You make it sound like consumption.” Cordelia’s head was whirling with dismay. James in love? With who? The look he had given her when she stepped down from the carriage, perhaps she had imagined that?

“Well, it is a bit, isn’t it? He gets all pale and moody and stares off out of windows like Keats.”

“Did Keats stare out of windows? I don’t recall hearing that.”

Lucie plowed on, undeterred by the question of whether England’s foremost romantic poet did or did not stare out of windows. “He won’t say anything to anyone but Matthew, and Matthew is a tomb where James is concerned. I heard a bit of their conversation once by accident, though —“

“Accident?” Cordelia raised an eyebrow.

“I may have been hiding beneath a table,” said Lucie, with dignity. “But it was only because I had lost an earring and was looking for it.”

Cordelia suppressed a smile. “Go on.”

“He is definitely in love, and Matthew definitely thinks he is being foolish. He does not like her.“

Be Lonely With Me - Chapter Three (Bughead AU)

Summary: A young single mother and a successful author meet at a creative writing class in New York. Betty is trying to get the education that she had to sacrifice to bring up her daughter and Jughead has run out of inspiration for his new novel. Can they help each other?

A/N:Thank you to everyone who gave me such amazing feedback on my previous chapter!! I wonder how the Betty and Jughead/’James’ interaction is going to go here… I hope it lives up to expectations! Thank you to my amazing beta @allthingsbughead​ (I don’t know what I would do without you)!! AO3 is down at the moment so I’ll update that in the morning.

Approx. 2450 words

chapter list here 
read on AO3 here

“You don’t have to organise the whole bookstore you know” Kevin teased from his seat on the counter as he watched his best friend manically reorganise one of the bookshelves alphabetically by author and title. Betty poked her head around the precarious stack of books that she was balancing in her arms and glared at him, Kevin just laughed.

“You can always help me Kev” she muttered, gesturing to a further five piles of books on the floor and raising her eyebrows expectantly.

“Nope” Kevin smirked, “That’s what I pay you for. Besides, I quite like the random and disorganised shelves, it adds character to the old place” he said, looking around the shop proudly.

Bookshelves of all different colours and sizes lined the walls of the store and zigzagged across the room in no particular formation, like a multi-coloured labyrinth. Potted plants sprang from corners, flowery vines snaking up the shelves and walls, and classical music played with the quiet buzz of interference from ancient speakers that needed replacing years ago. Since Betty had started working there, she had set up a small café in the corner of the store - just a couple of sofas with coffee tables - where she served tea, coffee, and homemade cakes. Customers often nestled down in the comfortable sofas and lost themselves in the books they had just bought. Within the café, Betty had also placed a small bookshelf of second-hand books that customers were welcome to read for free with their cup of tea. It added a homely feel to the place that encouraged customers to stay and browse.

Kevin had inherited the bookstore from his grandmother a few years ago and, even though he had little interest in reading, he had wanted to continue the business in her memory. He had met Betty soon after when he was advertising for a store manager but couldn’t afford to pay someone professional. Betty had turned up to the interview, having burnt through her savings, with a six-month old baby in her arms and Kevin had fallen for the little girl almost immediately, insisting it wouldn’t be a problem for Betty to bring Josie with her on her shifts and had even built the children’s section of the store specifically for her. Together, him and Betty had painted a corner of the shop with brightly-coloured jungle animals, fairies, and dragons, as well as furnish it with bean-bags and tiny chairs for kids to lounge around on while their parents shopped. As it turned out, Josie was brilliant for business as she sat in her high-chair and gurgled at customers, sending them into a baby-obsessed daze and encouraging them to come back and play with the gorgeous green-eyed toddler. Sales had increased enormously. Betty was convinced that, even now, some of the regular customers still visited the store specifically to see Josie as she frequently joined Betty on her Saturday shift. Mrs Everstone - one of the store’s regular customers - always brought lollipops for Josie on a Saturday, even if she didn’t have the time to browse.

“Betty, can you please stop organising the shelves? Mr Jones is going to be here any minute and I don’t want you knee-deep in a stack of books when he arrives.” Kevin reasoned.

“Fine” Betty muttered, carefully placing the remaining books back on the shelf and brushing herself off as she stood up. Her dark-green skater dress reached her mid-thigh and was pulled in at her slim waist by a thick brown belt, matched with a loosely knitted black cardigan, black tights, and black ankle boots with a small heel. Betty had also worn her hair down so loose blonde curls brushed her shoulders and Kevin could faintly smell the expensive perfume that Veronica Lodge - Betty’s only other friend in New York - had bought for her the previous Christmas. Kevin smirked at her knowingly.

“What?” Betty demanded.

“Oh nothing, you’ve just made quite an effort today I noticed” Kevin said, still smirking.

“I make an effort every day” Betty protested, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

“I know, I just haven’t seen you in a dress since last Christmas” Kevin remarked smugly, winking at Betty as he gracefully hopped off the counter and headed to the shop’s tiny kitchen to refill his mug of coffee. “I hope you haven’t written a list of questions to ask James Jones” Kevin called from the kitchen, “We won’t be very popular if we don’t let our customers speak to him.”

“No, of course not” Betty replied as she nervously pushed the sheet of paper further into her pocket to hide it from Kevin. She wandered over to the middle of the shop where she had set up a desk and a pile of new copies of ‘Sweetwater’ ready for the author to sign, she straightened the table cloth for what seemed like the one-hundredth time and plumped the cushion on the chair gently. Just at that moment, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Veronica.

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Limerence

Fandom: Fear The Walking Dead
Pairing: Troy Otto x OC (Kathryn), Nick x OC (Kathryn)
Words: 1,190
Warning: Emotional feels/trauma, some cursing, character death, etc.
Part: (1/?)
Rating: NSFW- future chapters will include smut because Troy Otto is yummy.

This is just something I threw together, which is probably shown in the writing. Typically I post on FanFiction.Net, this is my first attempt on Tumblr and I’m scared shitless. BUT! There’s hardly anything out there for the delectable Daniel Sharman and his role as Troy Otto, so I thought I’d give it a go! Enjoy!

Originally posted by margothegreat

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And Just Like That... Everything Changed Part 2

So this turned out way way longer than i intended but I just couldn’t stop! I hope you guys like it and it doesn’t drag on too much… This is 100% turning into a big multi chapter now! My inspo is peaking! 

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and liking and commenting you guys are beautiful and your responses always put a smile on my face xxx

Note: find Part 1 here- https://wordsonpages1.tumblr.com/post/160768728387/can-you-please-do-a-really-angsty-bughead-fic-bc-i

Blaring alarms rang in her ears, the sound obnoxious and hopeful all at once. Betty felt like she was under water, every sound muffled, every movement sluggish. Time seemed to pass impossibly slow-a stark contrast to the speed in which the bullet had hit him. His breathing was becoming more shallow and ragged by the second, his skin almost translucent. It felt cold under her hand which rested on his face [the other still pressing down on the wound].

His eyes kept threatening to flutter closed and each time she’d urge them open, keeping his gaze and making out the far off look in them behind the watery sheen in her own. Her mouth felt like a dessert but she kept whispering “please” and “stay with me” or “I love you” into the suffocating air between them.

Red and Blue lights illuminated the diner, the paramedics bursting through the door mere moments later. The chime of the bell was lost in their haste.

“Just hang on Jug,” she breathed, a slither of relief sliding into her heart.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Jughead wheezed; quiet, broken and wretched.  It made her want to throw up but steeling her strength Betty merely stroked his hair away from his chilled, damp forehead.

“Shh,” she whispered gently, trying to keep the panic and despair out of her tone.

And then she blinked and the paramedics were there shoving her aside and taking ownership of her boyfriend’s body and more so, his life. She couldn’t register what was happening, rather she could only think about how much colder her hand found now that is was bereft of his even with his skin so icy. How empty and lost and useless she felt as pain erupted in her chest all over again and spread outward.

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Horns (part 1 of 2) | Roan x Reader

[GIF not mine] - READ PART TWO HERE

Requested by anon: Hey, do you think you could write a Roan x Reader based on Bryce Fox’s song Horns please ? That’d be amazing ! :)

A/N: this song will forever be stuck in my head (listen to it at your own risk) and it turned me into a mess. For real. This is gonna have a part 2 because @selldraug asked for it and because I need to see how it ends. And because I like this weird shit. Because damn, Y/N’s weird as hell! (Sorry, anon, if it’s short, but the exam I have tomorrow is making me anxious. I promise part 2 will be longer!)

Fandom: The 1OO. Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: weird shit. A little bit of biting, a little bit of blood. Light mentions of sexual things. Weird reader (and writer haha). Set in the period in which Roan is still prince but banned.

Requests are OPEN

Listen to ‘Horns’ here (x)

Word-count: 1785

Your name: submit What is this?


“Well, well, isn’t this the Prince of Azgeda I see roaming the wildlands?”

Those had been her first words to him. She had caught him off guard while he was taking a piss, ten hours away from Polis. He had hurried up, finishing his business as quickly as possible, and he had turned. That girl had stood in front of him with an evil smirk on her face.

She had recognized him immediately: the scars on her face clearly stated that she was from Azgeda, and yet she had treated him disrespectfully.

That same girl was now laying on the furs he called his bed, naked and sound asleep.

He wouldn’t call theirs a relationship. He wasn’t sure that her cold stone heart would one day be open to a relationship, and yet he had fallen for her. Maybe he had fallen for her that day in the woods, while he had been pissing and she had stared at his penis amused.

His heart was in her hands and he knew she was more than capable of scratching it, of crashing it, of scarring it. And yet he couldn’t take it back. There was something in her, deep down in her black soul, that kept calling him back to her.

A hand snaked up his back, brushing the scratches she had given him a few hours before. Her lips kissed his skin while she got up in a sitting position behind him.

“What are you thinking about?” her hoarse voice asked.

The sound of it sent shivers down his spine. He almost felt ashamed, but the thing with her was that that girl scared the crap out of him.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing,” he answered, brushing her hand resting on his chest.

Y/N chuckled. Roan felt her hands leaving his body. She crawled around him until she was just in front of him. She pushed his legs open and sat down between them, but she didn’t get too close to his body. “I am inside your head, Prince,” she smiled evilly, caressing his cheeks with her ice cold hands. “You know you cannot lie to me, right?”

Roan sighed, raising his knees and trapping her body. “I hate you, you know?”

“Well, now you’re hurting me,” and she dramatically put one hand on her heart. “Did I – by any chance – give you a reason to hate me?”

“You kill me every time,” he confessed, lowering his gaze to her swollen lips.

“And yet you keep crawling back to me.” Y/N tilted her head to the side, her fingers trailing down his chest, grazing a little with her nails. “And, apparently, you like it.”

“I’m not sure I really do.”

She shrugged and thanks to that movement the light of the moon caught an ugly scar on her shoulder and made it shine a little. That lighter shade of her skin caught his attention for a fraction of second before she returned to her original position.

“You’re free to leave anytime you want,” she said, her fingers going even further, grazing at a scar he had on his hips.

They kept silent for a while, staring into each other’s eyes. For a second he thought he saw two little horns on each side of her head, but he shrugged the thought off his shoulders – the alcohol he had drunk was having its effects.

“I know,” he answered after a while, grabbing her wrists to get her hands off of him.

“Why are you here, Roan of Azgeda, if you know you can leave whenever it pleases you?” she whispered in his ear. She got up on her knees and got closer to him, their skins barely touching.

Cold radiated off of her and Roan couldn’t understand how she could be alive with such a low body temperature. Without him wanting so, his hands crawled on her back, brushing lightly at the numerous scars adorning her skin. She stood still against him, her breath slowly and lightly fanning his ear and neck.

Why did she have that effect on him? How could she affect him this much?

His skin always tingled when he was with her, his stomach fluttered when she talked, his heart beat furiously when she was close to him. She, on the contrary, didn’t look half as fazed. Her breath was regular, her heartbeat so light he could hardly hear it.

“Why won’t you leave, Roan?” she whispered again, her breath tickling his skin.

On its own accord, Roan’s head fell down and his forehead rested against her shoulder. “You keep calling me back.”

Her laugh reverberated in his chest, her cold skin burning his, her hands playing with his messy and dirty hair. “Oh, if I were calling you to me, you’d know, trust me.”

“You’ve screwed me,” he cursed, his grip on her tightening, leaving bruises and scratches.

She didn’t care. She loved it when he hurt her. It was almost as if she couldn’t stay away from pain – from physical pain. The scars covering her body, trophies of her victories, which she wore with pride, were a clear sign of the lack of fear she had when it came to hand-to-hand. And so she let him do, for she knew she was putting him through pain, guiding him through the darkness, scratching him with thorns.

“Your heart is in my hands,” she whispered through his hair and his grip on her body tightened even more. “But you can take it back. I’ve never asked for it.”

Roan bit down on her skin, his fingers digging into her scarred back. “What if I don’t want to?” he asked, licking away the blood escaping the wound he had created. Her blood in his mouth tasted like the milk of the Gods. It gave his tongue a tickling sensation and it reminded him how she had turned him to the dark side, how he enjoyed doing that to her, to feel her in his mouth, poisoning his brain.

She had hissed in pain, the same sound snakes make left her mouth. She sat back on her heels, staring at him. His index finger rose to touch the mark he had just given her and she smacked it away. Her gaze fell on the blood trickling down her breast and he knew how much that was arousing her. Her fingers touched that dark red, almost black, trembling line of blood before bringing them to her mouth. She stared at him while sucking at her fingers, tasting her own blood.

The look she gave him sent shivers down his back and he couldn’t fight his hands from trembling.

What had she done to him?

What kind of bloody spell was he under?

Before he could even think of finding an answer to those questions, she lunged forward. Her hands were around his neck and her lips on his, pushing, bruising, her tongue drew the silhouette of his lips. He opened up to kiss her back, but she bit down on his lower lip and tugged hard, drawing blood.

“What the fuck?” he groaned, touching his hurting lip, the stinging taste of his own blood invading his mouth.

Y/N smiled and Roan saw blood on her teeth. “Payback,” she chuckled and she scratched his neck with her nails. “I want you to lay down,” she quietly said, her hands leaving him free.

Roan couldn’t order his brain to ignore her words. As soon as her wish had left her blood-stained lips, he felt the muscle in his back contract and soon his head was laying on the ground. That girl had done something to him, some black magic shit, because he wasn’t himself when he was around her. When he was with her he wasn’t a prince and not even Roan. He was someone else, someone new, someone alien.

She grabbed one of his daggers from the pile of his weapons and came back to him, smirking devilishly.

“What the-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t harm you,” she smiled, leaning down to kiss him under his ear, the blade of the dagger cooling the skin of his shoulder. His erection brushing against her thigh made him feel ashamed for the way she made him feel every time. “At least, not dangerously,” and she smirked, sitting on his lap and staring at the blade.

“What if I don’t want this?” Roan asked, staring at his dagger. His breath was running wild while his body kept being still.

“I told you, Roan,” and she lightly brushed the blade of the dagger against his cheek. “You can leave whenever you want. You can stop me whenever you want.”

The prince swallowed hard under her stormy gaze. Her hips were gently rocking against him and his mind couldn’t work straight. Part of him fought with the words coming out of his mouth because part of him wanted to take that risk, part of him wanted to see where all that shit would go, part of him wanted his blood in her mouth and her blood in his own. But the most rational part of his brain prevailed.

“Stop this,” he ordered, his hands running up to grab her wrists.

She smirked. “What? Is someone scared to get hurt?” Her eyes were laughing at him, harmless under her body. “Just a little cut? Please?” she begged him.

His eyes bore into hers, his hands still around her wrists. He could use a little more strength to stop her, but part of him – that same part that only wanted to obey to her orders – wouldn’t let him.

“Oh, come on! Have some fun, mighty Roan of Azgeda!” she exclaimed and he couldn’t understand whether she was mocking him. “You bit me, don’t you think I deserve a little revenge?”

Roan gulped. The pressure of her body against his hard cock was fogging up his mind. His heart beat furiously against his ribcage, almost hurting him. “You bit me too. You had your revenge.”

Y/N huffed. “You’re so boring sometimes.”

They stared at each other for minutes before she started to rock her hips again. The smirk on her face clearly told him that she was going to have it her way, whether he wanted it or not. The look in her eyes… well, it screamed only one thing: he was going to surrender one way or another. His heart was in her hands and in that moment more than ever they both knew how much truth was in those words.

Roan sighed. “You have one cut – make it your best one,” he groaned, grounding his hips against her in one hard movement.


Tags: @saibh29

Ignoti Nulla Cupido (10/20).

Prompt: Nat came to you in order to keep her and Tony’s promise to keep you safe, but how would they react when they’ll learn about the secret you’ve been keeping since you left Bucky’s side?

Word Count: 703.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: Sligh angst, just to keep on with the tradition.

A/N: Filler chapter guys, but I needed to write this so you would be able to get a glimpse at who Chace is.

Previous Part - Next Part.

Originally posted by lovetheworldlife

(Y/N) kept staring through the window, Chace driving next to her not speaking. It was comforting, Chace always knew when to talk to her or just when to hold her if she needed to. But this time it was different, they were no longer two kids that were trained together for several years due to their abilities.

Now they were both adults, one of them in need for the other. And Chace was never one to back off of her, he would always be there if she called or texted.

So when he got her text about her and James leaving the town they were living because the infamous Natasha Romanoff came searching for her claiming to be a real danger and that she needed to get back with her former team, he dropped off everything and came to the States.

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Color Of The Wind

For as long as Blake could remember, grey had been her world. Everything was grey, or at least, various shades of grey. Her hair, her clothes, the leaves on the trees outside, the people that passed her by… It was something that she had been born with, unlike everyone else.

Perhaps she had taunted fate too much in a past life. She would never know. But in a world where people could see all but the color of their soulmates’ eyes, it seemed like a cruel twist of fate indeed for her.

Years went by, a blur of monochrome that Blake barely deemed worthy of remembering. Too much pain and sadness. First her parents, then the Fang and Adam, and then Adam’s betrayal. All sharp edges and flat colors, something that was a constant source of disappointment.

And this was how she found herself at Beacon, preparing herself for real academic study for the first time in over a decade. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t smart (self-taught in almost all areas of study), but it had taken a lot of time and effort and tears and sweat to get to the point that she could ace the written and oral exams that Beacon provided. The battle placement test that followed afterwards only further secured Blake’s place in the Academy.

It was funny how many people she made eye contact with that first day. All teenagers with that hopeful look in their eyes as they prayed that they would suddenly be able to see yellow for the first time.

That was her eye color, according to Adam. Yellow, the same shade as a sunflower’s petals.

She’d never know the color she was missing.

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Cupcakes - Harry’s 37th Birthday - Drarrmony

Based on this post  

~~~

Draco checked the recipe again, feeling foolish and proud of himself at the same time as he carefully mixed the cake batter. There was a small weight resting against one of his calves, accompanied by a persistent tugging, that he was only half paying attention to. Still, he made quick work of mixing the ingredients together enough for a toddler to take over.

“Papa, I help!” was being chanted in time with the tugging, making him sigh when he finally spared a glance downward. His bland, impatient brow did nothing to deter the eager, wide-eyed, and pleading look he was getting from his still baby-faced firstborn.

“I did say you’d be allowed to stir,” he told the boy dryly. “Are you ready to help me?”

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“Moonlight” - Shortaki Week: Day 1

Shortaki Week Day One: Moonlight

Drabble by: Arnold’s Love


“Oh, most luminous orb in indigo sky

“Looketh you upon my ideal guy

“Oh, all knowing lunar sphere taunting from above

“Wilst thou never guide me to my one true love?”

“Helga?!”

“Hey, Football Head, what’s up?” she replied, casually looking over her shoulder at him as he hovered just behind her.

He could only stare at her in a shocked sort of daze, until he finally found enough sense to ask, “where did you learn that poem?”

Helga’s eyes widened slightly.  She stood up and dusted off her dress before responding.  “Uh, what poem?”

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Angels and Demons (Cas x Reader)

Character: Castiel x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 4,644 (Sorry)

Warnings: Torture. Blood. Swearing.

Request: can you do a soulaate cas oneshot? like the reader and cas don’t know each other, but they meet and the reader can see his wings?

AN: What’s up, guys? I’m super excited to be writing for Cas :) …and I'm also excited to tell y'all that I am going to officially become an aunt today or early tomorrow! (I’m sitting in the hospital with my sister, as I write this) Anyways, I hope that everyone enjoys! Feel free to tell me what you think, leave a request, or just stop by to say hello! :)

-Megan :)

x

———————

The sound of your bare feet smacking against the slimy concrete, echoed off of the surrounding brick walls as you sprinted around a corner and into an empty alleyway. 

“Do you really believe that you could ever escape me, [Y/N]?” a man laughed sadistically from behind you; the same man whom had broken into your apartment, mere moments before. “I know that Castiel has taught you otherwise." 

Ducking into a nearby doorway, you pressed into the shadows and squeezed your eyes shut, hopelessly trying to answer the questions that swirled recklessly through your mind. 

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My Ecto-Copter came in! It’s pretty cool, but Daemona and Jericho look super off-model…they weren’t intended to be viewed from a ¾ angle like that so I get it.

I noticed that with the Carl’s Jr toys and other promotional images, Monie’s PI outfit is a lighter shade of green than it is in the show. Not sure if this was a holdover from an earlier design for her or Sony thought a brighter green would be more eye-popping for potential merchandise. And I also noticed that this means Kira and Casey were sadly left out of the toys…the last two toys are of Jinxie and Wad respectively. But I understand using Monie and Jericho here; Monie’s the leader and would probably be on all the merch had it all been made, and Jericho’s the comic relief member of the gang; he has the most “kid-appeal”, so to speak.

GMS Fanfiction - James/MC - Protection

As an apology for the wait on the first prompt, and because I wanted to say thank you again for the Jack/MC picture, I wrote another idea that @jane-runs-fast gave me. This prompt was for a jealous James, though I deviated a little from the original idea. I hope that doesn’t bother you!

Guinevere felt as if she was walking on air.

The night was going well; better than she had expected, actually. Not only had she been asked to a party being hosted by a rather famous director, but said director had seemingly taken a shine to her, spending the past thirty minutes or so in a pleasant conversation about previous roles and things that she hoped to achieve in the future.

She was enjoying it greatly. Until his sons decided to shadow her, that is.

Even this might not have dampened her spirits on a normal afternoon. Unfortunately, both men were obviously very used to getting what they wanted, and it would take more than casual deflection and pointed avoidance to be rid of their attentions.

“Come on,” said one of them, flashing her a winning smile. “Just one dance?”

“We’re not bad guys,” added the other coaxingly. “What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” replied Guinevere. She gave nothing more than a polite smile. “I’m simply tired.”

“You can relax with us,” offered the first. “The wine at the bar here is fantastic.”

“I don’t drink,” Guinevere said, turning him down. “Low tolerance. You understand, right?”

From across the room, she spied Sebastian lingering behind the crowds, watching her silently. She was tempted to signal him over, but quickly thought better of it. He had gotten overzealous about protecting her before. The director’s sons probably meant well, all things considered. She didn’t want to get anyone hurt.

Just as she thought this, Sebastian disappeared through a door, expression unchanging.

“I think I’m going to go home, actually,” she said, eyes returning to them. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to turn in early tonight.”

“So soon?” One of them frowned at her. “Stay a while longer. It’s still early.”

“I’m sorry. I really have to go.”

She made to step past them, ready to rid herself of her heels and shower away the day.

Her wrist was grabbed. Not hard, but firmer than she would have liked.

“Come on,” the man who held her insisted. “Don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“Let go of me,” Guinevere said, her voice growing colder.

He did so, staring with widening eyes. He took a step back. Had he turned a shade or two lighter?

Arms slipped around Guinevere from behind, drawing her into a broad male chest. The scent of chypre engulfed her, warm and welcome. Immediately she relaxed.

“I believe we all heard the lady say no. Didn’t we, boys?” Though James’ hold on her was nothing but gentle, his tone was so frosty even Guinevere had to swallow.

“Hey man,” said the less fearful of the pair, holding up his hands warily. “We were just trying to get her to lighten up. No hard feelings.”

“No?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I would keep that in mind before you get yourselves into trouble.”

“Are you threatening us?” asked one of them, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course not,” said James amusedly. “I’m merely stating a fact.”

With that, Guinevere was led away and into a car, where they began to drive through the light drizzle of rain that had begun to fall.

“Does your wrist hurt?” asked James softly, as he touched his fingertips to the place where she’d been grasped.

“No. He didn’t grab me that hard.”

James sighed, tugging her to him by that same hand. “My cute little robin has a knack for getting herself into dangerous situations.”

Guinevere frowned at him. “It’s not as if I purposely drew their attention.”

He smirked. “Maybe not. But I can’t ever seem to take my eyes off of you, can I?”

She wasn’t given the chance to reply before he was kissing her, a tender hand resting at her jaw.

“James,” she murmured against his lips, cheeks flushing. “At least wait until we get home.”

Smoky topaz eyes regarded her ferally. His smile had faded. “Another man put his hands on you. I need to erase that.”

“James,” she chastised, still frowning. “We’re in the car.”

“So?”

“So, we’re not doing this here.” She pulled away from him, a raised brow daring him to defy her.

James leaned back slowly, smiling again. His burning gaze pierced her.

Guinevere couldn’t shake the suspicion that she was going to be in for a long night once he had her alone.

End

El Clasico (II) - Cristiano Ronaldo

Previously..

But if you loved me, why’d you leave me?

There was something about Camp Nou that had always made her emotional. She’d been a child when she’d first walked into the vast stadium with Leo and immediately upon laying eyes on it; something had tugged at her heart. Camp Nou had been home for her, taking up a special place in her heart.

Yet now as she looked around the vast arena, ‘Mes que un club’ spelt out in front of her, the heavy weight inside of her chest only deepened. She had thought she would feel some sort of relief being here, that perhaps if she saw him here, it would be much easier for her.

But her old home only reminded her of the home she had left behind in Madrid. The home she’d walked out on without any explanation. The love she’d left sleeping before he’d woken to stop her with a curt letter consisting of two sentences. The love whose arms she would still search for in the middle of the night only to be met with cold and empty sheets. The love she would have to face after 2 months of ignored calls and messages.

“You okay?” Leo’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, turning to her brother as she noticed the players starting to lineup at the end of the tunnel. Ready for another round of El Clasico.

She nodded, forcing her lips into a smile, but he wasn’t fooled.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just talk to him-” he began his argument for the umpteenth time, only to be cut off by her - as usual.

“No. I can’t even look at him Leo. He deserves so much better,” she sighed.

“You’re right. He deserves to know the truth and not be kept in the dark, Y/N. If you keep avoiding him like this, he’ll resent you forever,” Leo tried to talk some sense into his little sister.

You’d think it was a bit crazy - he was trying to amend things between her and a man perceived to be his rival in the football world. A relationship that had been like a slap in the face when he’d walked in on the two of them together, shocking him. But he’d seen the love she’d held for the man and he had wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. Yet here she was, making herself miserable without him.

“Good. It’ll be easier if she hates me.” She replied, turning away from her brother.

“Y/N! Y/N!” the child’s voice shouting her name made her heart stop, seeing Cristianinho running towards her with a huge grin on his face.

She let out a laugh, dropping to her knees and catching the boy in her arms as he threw himself into her, holding him against her chest. Squeezing her eyes shut to stop the hurdle of emotions she was hit with, her heart melting with her love for him.

“Ninho, mi amor,” she cooed, as he pulled back, a wide grin on his face.

“I miss you so much, Y/N,” he said, dramatically sighing.

“I miss you too, Ninho. But look at you! You look so handsome!” she replied, willing her voice not to break. Trying to keep her composure in front of him.

“Look at my new sneakers! Mamai bought them for me,” he showed off, stomping his foot for effect.

“They’re amazing,” she replied with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead just as the little boy’s eyes widened upon seeing Leo behind her.

She stood up, about to turn to Leo when she felt him.

His presence before he even appeared, her senses tingling and her body becoming aware. Her eyes met his of their own accord and she felt the wind knocked out of her.

Just like he did. The intensity of her brown eyes made him freeze in his tracks. Her cheeks flushed, dressed in a hoodie that was way too big for her small frame. But there was something missing. The spark in her eyes that had him succumbing to her was missing, yet he still wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, hold her tight so that she could never leave him again like she had.

She turned away from him, and rushed off, outside the tunnel. Leaving him hanging once again.

-

To say the game was an intense one would be an understatement. It wasn’t even half-time and 12 out of the 22 players on the pitch had already been handed yellow cards, along with a red card flashed in both Sergio and Xavi’s faces. Yet the man whom her eyes had been unable to leave was out of it. He was wound up - frustration pent up inside of him and she knew that he was moments away from unraveling.

That moment came too soon - Gerard collided with him sending him tumbling to the ground. Within seconds Cristiano was back on his feet, angrily jabbing away in Spanish to him just as the other boys began running towards their respected teammate, trying to avoid a fight that they didn’t realize had already started.

The moment she saw Cris take a threatening step towards Gerard, she was on her feet. His eyes were cold and his jaw was clenched, and Y/N knew exactly what Cris was about to do.

“Cris- Don’t!” she screamed, making his hand pause in mid-air, as he was about to raise it.

His head turned towards her and their eyes met, hers silently begging him not to create a scene. He took a sharp breath, looking away from her and turning from Gerard, walking off.

Unable to watch any longer, Y/N excused herself from beside Antonella and found herself making her way inside towards the holding rooms. Seeing him was so much more difficult than she could’ve imagined. She could almost feel the betrayal inside of him every time his eyes would wander towards her and quickly look away. She hated herself, but she knew she couldn’t give into her emotions. It was better for him this way.

She heard footsteps approaching and turned her heard to see who it was - only to see him round the corner. A towel hanging around his neck, his face held a scowl that disappeared the moment he lifted his head and saw her standing there.

“Y/N.”

It felt like a bullet in the chest when he said her name like that. His voice was a caress, the tone wrapping itself around her mirroring the times his arms had wrapped around her and made her feel safe and wanted.

“Cris…” she managed to reply.

His hands fisted either side of him, his posture defensive.

“How’ve you been?” he asked her.

She arched a brow.

“We’re gonna make small talk?” she let out, holding herself back from scoffing.

“Well, considering you walked out on me without so much as a proper sentence to explain why, I don’t see what else there is to do,” he snapped at her, harsher than he’d intended his words to be. Immediately feeling guilty once he saw that the words seemed to slap her in the face.

He didn’t have the heart to call after her when she turned away without a word and left - again.

-

“Papai- it’s Messi!” he heard his son whisper in awe, looking up to see the Argentinian walking towards the two of them. Offering a grin to Ninho, he ruffled his hair before turning to Cristiano.

“It was a good game,” Leo said, holding out his hand for Cris to shake.

“That was a pretty good nutmeg back there,” Cris replied, chuckling.

“Yeah…listen. I’m saying this because I know she won’t,” Leo began, making Cristiano’s stomach churn. Despite the fact that Lionel had been fine with his relationship with Y/N, the last thing he expected was for this to be a topic of one of their conversations.

Leo sighed, pressing his lips together. Making Cris realise that Y/N had the same dimples in her cheeks as her brother. Their eyes were similar too - only hers were a lighter, deeper shade of brown that sometimes made him feel like he was drowning.

“She needs you, but she doesn’t realize it. She’s too set on trying to keep you at a distance to see what it’s going to do - well - what it’s doing to her. Just…just talk to her.” Leo finished with running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Cris nodded, determination settling in. He deserved an explanation from her. He’d woken up to an empty bed with a note saying, “Don’t come for me. I’m sorry,” and it had driven him insane trying to figure out what the hell he’d done wrong. This was his opportunity and he was going to seize it.

-

He stood in the doorway of her old apartment, his dominating presence looking so out of place amongst the mundane pieces of furniture that were placed inside. Her hands shook looking at him, because he had that look inside his eyes, that look that let everyone know he was a conqueror who got whatever he wanted. It frightened the hell out of her, because she knew he had come for her. She knew he would find a way to make her succumb to him, that she had to stand her ground no matter what.

“Where’s Ninho?” she asked, trying not to let the topic of conversation head towards what they both knew what he was really there for.

“He’s back at my hotel with my mother.” Cris replied. “Why did you leave?”

“I-I wasn’t feeling too well so I just-” she began, only to be cut off by him.

“Enough - you know it’s not the match I’m talking about,” he spoke, narrowing his eyes at her.

She took a deep breath, turning away from him.

“You should go, Cris.”

“No. I’m not leaving here without you,” Cristiano replied, his voice laced with determination.

“I’m not coming with you, Cris. It’s over.” She said, hating the way her voice trembled. Her chest felt heavy and her stomach was in knots. She couldn’t do this - it was too much doing this face to face with him.

He took hold of her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes closed of their own accord when his hand cupped her face, hating the way her body fell weak at his touch.

“It’s never over between us, angel. I tried to give you your space but enough is enough. It’s time for you to come back home,” he said, stroking her cheek and lowering his forehead to hers.

She felt a tug of longing in her heart at his words, threatening to make her tears spill over.

“I can’t, Cris. I can’t be with you-” she whispered, shaking her head and pushing his hands off her, taking a step back from him. Tears swimming in her eyes, making something inside of him break at the sight.

“Just- tell me what I did wrong, angel. We’ll work on it together; we’ll fix it-” he began, falling down to the point where he was almost ready to beg for her.

She shook her head, letting a sob finally escape.

“I have cancer, Cristiano. They’re taking out my ovaries next week…”

He felt the wind knocked out of him, taking in a deep breath through his nose. She couldn’t be…

“But- you’re going into surgery…you’re going to be fine, angel,” he muttered, more so to himself than to her. Taking a step towards her when she shook her head.

“Cris- don’t you get it? I can’t be with you. I can’t start a family with you and Ninho because I won’t be capable of doing the one thing that a woman is supposed-” she sobbed, but he didn’t let her finish. He grabbed her face, pulling it to his.

“Listen to me. I am in love with you, Y/N. Ninho loves you. You love me. I don’t care if we can’t have kids - because there’s nothing worse than not having you. Don’t you understand? You’re what drives me. You’re everything to me and I’m not willing to have a life without you in it. You’re going to get through this, angel. We’re going to get through this the way we’re supposed to - together.”

Their kiss was salty with the tears that were still flowing from her eyes, yet he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he held her to him. Held her so tightly as if she could mesh into him and become a physical part of him. She was his home, his soulmate, his everything. His angel.

5

This guy is online talking that he works for the “DPC” department (I think he means DCP, Disney Consumer Products but he keeps saying the wrong thing) and posting traced artwork to look like he’s designing concepts for marketing. Sorry to get people scared of a whitewash scare coming straight from official places and that is not the case. I am fine with this continuing to be spread around cause hopefully this guy gets a C&D for his nonsense, but I am not in any way encouraging people to attack him. I’m trying very hard to ignore him on Twitter because he is blaming me for bringing people at him over this. He deleted some photoshopped posts after I told him what site he edited them on, I’m honestly suprised he hasn’t blocked me yet.

This guy designs artwork for Disney consumer products… And I don’t care if he was just throwing together a quick practice piece. The color of the clothes, hair, and eyes are accurate enough, so why would you grab such a light color for her skin and shade it and everything as if he just slapped it on last minute without a second thought? I’m not saying he intentionally/maliciously made her lighter but he in fact made her significantly inexcusably lighter. I find it odd that he explains to others that the skin tone can be changed or whatever to imply he’s fiddling with it but then defends the color to me by saying she’s not suppose to look like Tiana… UMM OK? This is annoying af. [x]

anonymous asked:

5 and 6 for all if you can

5. Is there any significance behind their hair color?

6. Is there any significance behind their eye color?

//I’ll do them together!

Bos is the easiest–dark brown hair and eyes are one of the most common combinations, and it also is a sort of tie to her close relations with Turkey.

Herze’s hair doesn’t really have significance, but his eyes are amber to reference his more ‘sunny’ personality, and I also made his name reference his eyes too. (His human name of Neven means marigold)

Serb also has dark brown hair because it’s the most common, and he has green eyes, because, well, I’ve noticed most Serbia oc’s tend to have brown eyes, and I wanted to stand out a bit more, while still having something sorta normal.

Voj has lighter brown hair and green eyes to show the connection to Hungary, but her eyes are the same shade of green as Serbia’s and much darker than Hungary’s.

Mont has black hair because her name means “Black Mountain.” Her eyes are brown because that’s a common eye color (although I’ve been thinking of changing them to grey based on something I read that said Montenegro had a very even mix of dark hair and light eyes or light hair and dark eyes).

Cro has brown hair, because again most common, and his eyes are hazel to reference the effects Italy and Hungary have had on the country. 

Slo’s hair is lighter than the others because he’s the northernmost, and the one with the most Germanic influence. I still consider it a shade of brown though, to go with his more Central European/Balkan roots. His eyes are violet to reference the huge role Austria has played in the country’s history.

Koso is an interesting one in that her eyes are blue, because originally my Albania’s eyes were blue and it was to show a connection between them but then I changed his but not Koso’s because I thought she looked better with them. But I sort of like it because now she looks like neither really which goes with her wanting to be independent. Her hair was originally straight up dark brown, but when I translated it from paper to computer I accidentally made it more reddish and that sort of stuck.

And then Mace…….

Her eyes are easiest. She originally had gold eyes because I was going for a red-gold color scheme for her, but then I realized that all the huge influences on her (Greece, Bulgaria, my Serbia, even Turkey sometimes) are drawn with green eyes, so I switched to hazel.

Similar to Koso, her hair got way more red when I went from the initial designs on paper to drawing on my tablet. It was always meant to be auburn, but it got switched to full on red. Like I said, I was going for a red-gold color scheme, so it didn’t bother me too much even if it wasn’t a common color there because I have all sorts of ~symbolic~ headcanons for her hair.

So the red-gold is meant to be a reference to the flag ofc, and other national symbols tend towards being red and gold too. And then the general symbolic meanings of the colors of red and yellow fit her really well, like red=passion and yellow=cheerful, because if there’s two words I’d use to describe her, it’d be passionate and cheerful. And then I started to like her having a not so common hair color for similar reasons to Koso, again. People are always trying to claim who she is, and her having the red hair is a way for her to show off her independence more. “Uh, I’m your little sister? We don’t look remotely alike bye”

(And the q is hair color but on the topic of Mace’s hair; her hair is curly to show Greek influence. It’s supposed to be more loose curls, but I also like drawing it more circular because it looks like the shape of her country then lol)

Without a doubt one of the worst parts of my job is when beautiful dark skin customers sheepishly ask me if we carry any products for lightening the skin. First I tell them that they have lovely skin and that we don’t sell skin bleaching products. Then they laugh it off and say “No not for bleaching, for cleansing.”

For cleansing yourself of what? Your race?! This happened again today. A beautiful young woman wearing a killer outfit and a hijab asked me for creams and cleansers that would make her skin lighter. I cringed immediately and my heart sank. She had a friend with her that was only a shade or two lighter but she also smiled eagerly and waited for my answer so she could translate it better. 

I told them we had a few products that made the skin “brighter” but not lighter. They begged me to show them the products but we were already closing and I said that I couldn’t. 

I wish I could have snapped a picture of them. The darker girl had such a chiseled jaw line and smoldering eyes. She reminded me of what Iman probably looked like as a young girl. She was wearing a 2 piece pant suit in navy with gemstones on the pointy shoulders and a bright colored hijab that framed her elegant face. Her skin was so smooth and totally flawless. I doubt she was even wearing concealer. 

They bought a few products and as they walked out I thanked them and reminded them of how much I liked their skin.

I die a little inside each time a gorgeous dark skinned person asks me about lightening creams. 

Newborn Princess CHAPTER 3

Summary: As Happy comes back from a late run he hears crying and finds a baby in a basket on his doorstep, with a letter saying that it was his. Will he raise the child or give it up. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m super glad that you all like this story so much don’t worry this isn’t the last part there is soooo much more to come!!! <3

WARNINGS: Language


OUTFIT THE BABY IS WEARING

“You sure do look cute.” Happy said then grabbed his phone dialing his moms number, “Why look who decided to call?” He heard his mother cheer. “I’m on my way I should be there in an hour.” He answered simply and smirked when he heard his daughter’s loud cry.

“Happy? What’s that in the background…it sounds like a baby?” His mother said, “We’ll see you in an hour ma.”

“We? Happy who’s we…” Happy hung up his phone and tossed it in the seat next to him with a laugh, “Yeah ma’s gonna have a damn heart attack.

He was only a few minutes away but decided to pull into a gas station, “Let’s fill up this car, huh baby.” He said pulling up to a pump and shutting off the truck. Putting his burner in his pocket he walked out and went to the side were his daughter was opening the door to hear her loud squeal. “I hear you girl I ain’t leavin’ you in this hot ass car.” Happy told her as he lifted her up taking her into his arm then grabbing the diaper bag with the other.

Happy walked into the gas station which seemed to be littered with teenagers making him grunt  as he went into the bathroom, “Shit.” Happy growled as he walked into the men’s then back out when he didn’t see a changing table. “Fuck it.” He said then went into the women’s bathroom locking the door behind himself. “What am I going to name my girl?” He whispered as he began to change her diaper then put a a pacifier with the Anarchy A on it. He buckled her in with the straps on the changing table then did his business when he was done with her.

“Oh my god that is the woman’s bathroom!” A woman gasped when he walked out with his daughter. “I had to change my damn kid.” He growled, “You should’ve let her mother do it.”

Little Lowman let out a loud scream and Happy rocked her slightly, “Her mom didn’t want her.” He growled back and the woman backed away at the venomous sound of his voice, “I gotcha girl. Relax.” Happy whispered as he held her against his chest her headband covered head against his neck.

Happy walked around the aisles glaring at any of the kids that looked his way, “Sucks that you’re to young for juice.” He told his girl then walked to the counter waiting in line.

“50 on 10.” Happy said then pulling out fifty dollars from his wallet which was difficult, “First time dad?” The cashier asked in a soft voice, she was a woman about early twenties maybe, short dark brown hair, glasses with brown eyes, the sun making them look slightly orange. “Yeah.” She nodded her head, “Yeah my brother and his girlfriend just had their first kids…set of twins.” She laughed and Happy smirked, “Damn.

“She’s beautiful how old is she.” The woman smiled and gave a little wave making his daughter coo and squirm in his arms, “Hi.” She laughed, “She was two weeks premature but she’s a month old now.” Happy said poking his girl’s cheek. “I was two months premie.” She scrunched up her face, “But she’s a beauty.” She smiled, then gasped, “Oh I’m sorry, uh you said 50 on 10 right. Sorry bout that.”

Happy smirked when she took the money, “No problem baby.” He winked before he turned to walk out the door then to his truck were he put his daughter in her car seat. Happy filled up the truck quickly then drove to his mother’s house chuckling when he noticed his mom sitting on her porch. “Okay baby girl, let’s go see abuelita.” He said as he parked.

Happy stepped out of the truck then went to the other door, noticing that his ma kept trying to see what he was doing. “She’s probably going to be pissed for a bit but don’t worry ma will love ya.”

Happy picked up his daughter out of the car seat and grabbed the diaper bag and another which he filled with clothes that he was going to leave here for when she visits. Carrying his daughter he made his way to the house which he grew up in, “H-Happy what…is that a?” His mother didn’t even know were to start.

“It’s a baby mom.” He said when he stopped in front of her, “It’s my baby ma. This is my daughter.” The woman covered her mouth as she felt tears well up in her eyes, “No.” Rosa, Happy’s mother, gasped and Happy nodded his head, “Guess I wasn’t to careful. Took a DNA test ma…she’s mine.”

Rosa felt some tears fall down her cheek as she looked at the little baby, her skin a lighter shade of Happy’s, short dark hair and brown eyes, “This is my grand daughter…I’m a grandmother.”

“Yeah, you’re a grandma.” Rosa wiped her eyes and looked up at her son, “How?”

“Well me and this chick…” Happy started and Rosa slapped his arm sharply and glared, “Oh don’t be a smart ass.” He chuckled and his daughter whined. “I’ll tell you inside, she’s hungry.”


“How could a woman just leave a baby out in the cold?” Rosa asked as she patted her granddaughter’s back, “Come on baby, burp for abuela (grandmother).” As if she knew she let out a deep burp making Rosa smile. “So you haven’t thought of a name?”

“Have a few but I don’t really like them.” He grunted as he leaned back into the couch. “What about Malinda?” Rosa offered and Happy shook his head. “Or Selena…don’t like that either…hmm maybe Kataline”

“I don’t know ma.” Happy said, “You think you could watch her I haven’t had any sleep.”

Rosa let out a laugh, “Sure baby.” Happy leaned down and kissed both woman on the head, “In thirty minutes there is a prescription that she has to take for her cold. I don’t think she’ll need it I haven’t heard her wheezing or coughing but just I case ya know.”

“Alright hun, you go get some sleep I’ll wake you up when dinner’s done. Love you baby.” Rosa called and cradled her new granddaughter, ¿Qué tal un amor canción? (How about a song sweetheart?)”

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found
Was blind but now I see

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds
And drives away his fear

Must Jesus bear the cross alone
And all the world go free?
No, there’s a cross for ev'ryone
And there’s a cross for me”

Happy watched as his mother sang to his child and that’s when it hit him…when everything happened hit him. He was a dad, a single father that would be raising a kid all on his own…but he’d have the help of the club which felt nice to have that extra support. It scared him that he was scared to raise his daughter but I mean who could blame him, it wasn’t just him anymore that he would have to worry about. It was him and his little girl, meaning there was another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, another person to protect. A baby was a big deal and he doesn’t understand why he didn’t see the seriousness of this situation sooner.

What if he was a bad father? What if he was like his father? No. No he’d never be like his father, he would swear to never put his hands on his child the way his father did to him, he swore to never abandon her. When shit got tough he wasn’t going to leave her. He had to be stronger than he was, not for him but for her. He wouldn’t be alone in his house anymore, he had her and he wouldn’t be able to come home at four in the morning with a crow because he had her. Those thoughts were over whelming  but he had to man up for her, for his child…the thought made him a little mad that his dad didn’t do the same for him.  Happy wasn’t gonna miss a thing, not her first steps or first words, first date or dance, nah he wasn’t going to miss a thing.

It was around 6:30 when Rosa knocked on Happy’s door, he bolted upright opening the door quickly, “Is she alright?”

Rosa smiled softly and raised the baby in her arms, “We just came to wake you up for dinner. She woke up from her nap about ten minutes ago.” Rosa informed and Happy nodded as he sighed, his hand going to stroke her cheek as she sucked on her bo-bo. Her brown eyes staring at him with the intensity that he usually stares at others with, “Natasha.” He whispered so low that he barely heard himself say it.

“I think that’s a beautiful name.” Rosa smiled then looked down at her grand-baby, “Well Natasha let’s give daddy a minute huh?” He heard his mom hum as they walked down the hall and into the kitchen, leaving him alone to put on a shirt and grab his phone.

“Natasha. I like that name I wonder were he came up with that.” He heard his ma say to his daughter as she walked around bouncing his daughter. “Might have to give you some tummy time.”

“Yeah I brought a blanket for her.” Happy said as moved the coffee table and replace it with a blanket. “Come here baby girl.” Happy said as he picked up Natasha, “Where did you come up with that name?” Rosa asked as she watched her son bounce his daughter gently, her head cradled underneath his chin. Little hands poked at his chest making him kiss her head softly, “I don’t know. A chick I met today had that name and I thought it was nice. What you don’t like it?” He asked as he knelt down placing his daughter on her stomach.

“No I think it’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.” She smiled, “I’ll go get your food hon.” She said and Happy sat on the floor with his back against the couch.

“You’re liftin’ your head really good baby.” Happy smiled as he put his hand in front of her, her fingers grabbing his with a coo and squeal. He moved his hand back and she reached her hands out to grab his, lifting her head, “Good job.” He said and she let out a sharp squeal as she slapped her hands on the ground.

“You know I need to take pictures later with the both of you.” Rosa stated as she walked over with two plates in her hands, “Let’s turn you over baby.” Happy mumbled and rolled Natasha gently onto her stomach, then took his plate of food.

“Thanks ma.” He said around a mouthful of food.

The Face of Anne Boleyn

In 1532 a Venetian ambassador to the court of Henry VIII described Anne Boleyn as  “not one of the handsomest women in the world. She is of middling stature, with a swarthy complexion, long neck, wide mouth, bosom not much raised, and in fact has nothing but the King’s great appetite, and her eyes, which are black and beautiful.”

It is true that Anne was never praised as a great beauty, but it was not so much her outward appearance which made the King fall for her. Anne had a remarkable wit. She was well educated and had honed her skills of flirtation and charm during her time at the French court.In the generations following her death, Anne was romantically portrayed as a raven haired vixen with smoldering black eyes. While her eyes were dark and quite striking, Anne’s hair was more likely a lighter shade of brown (some theorize that she may even have been a redhead) and, although only one contemporary image of her survives, her face was probably not considered the most beautiful in England. 

Personally, I am of the opinion that Anne was not altogether what we would call “ugly” but rather that she did not fit with the beauty standards of Tudor England. She had olive skin, dark eyes, and was very slender with a small bosom. The Tudors preferred women to be of fair complexion and buxom of figure. Regardless of whether or not she met the criteria for the ideal Tudor lady, it was still ultimately Anne Boleyn’s mind and not her face that made her so extraordinary.